Merged
by YouLookLikeFOOD
Summary: One-shot on what happens when a person merges with a Shadow ship. Please read and review!


I look up at the Shadow ship. There's a strange feeling about it; not like all the others. They all feel like… hatred. Hot, boiling hatred that seems to radiate away from the machine like an oppressive force. An evil spider that somehow found its way into space, to blacken the world with its venom, to crawl into the darkest places and wait, spinning a web of fear and lies, to entangle you within it.

This one feels… dead. Nothing comes from it, not light and not dark, not hatred or indifference or love or life.

Just… death.

The creatures behind me make strange noises, and though I can't translate them, their meaning is clear. I told myself I'd be brave enough to walk straight into that ship without shaking, without tears. Now I see that there are neither; just a deep-rooted desire to run, to run and hide and cower in a dark corner. My feet remain planted in the earth beneath me; I refuse to go. I refuse to run, and I refuse to enter that ship. I don't think I could move them if I tried; my body feels rigid and cold, as though the presence of death surrounding the ship is slowly taking me over, before I even step within its venomous heart.

And then comes the whisper.

I can't tell what it's saying; only that it's calling to me. Coaxing me towards it with sweetened words, a plea for help and a cry for mercy. I take a slow, hesitant step towards it, and the whisper encourages me along.

It's clearer now. Speaking in a language I can't understand, so ancient and so soft that I can not help but venture further; just one more step. One more step will not make me lost forever.

The whisper becomes ever clearer; no longer words but a song, an unearthly tune that travels across stars and through the void of time. Soft, ancient, forever. Impossible to destroy. Impossible to hate. Impossible to love.

Tears form in my eyes; could this ship, the very form of death, be lamenting? What could cause it so much pain? What could cause_ anything_ so much pain?

The song fills the air, no longer a whisper but a battle cry, a soft, mournful howl that calls for the vengeance of something lost. And I know that I can make it better, that I can stop that cry, I can stop that pain.

So I step forwards. I keep walking, step by slow, miniscule step. I can't move fast enough; my feet seem numb and sluggish.

I vaguely note that the shadows have left me. My heart soars; I can escape. When this is all over, when I have helped the crying creature inside the ship, I can run. I can run forever and ever and no one will stop me.

I keep moving towards the shadow ship, catching shattered reflections of myself in its inky surface. I walk inside, moving slowly but steadily, willing myself to keep going, to move ever faster.

The song is louder now, filling the darkness of the ship's centre with its echoing notes, beautiful and fragile. The words, in no language I can translate, roll around in my mind, dance across my thoughts in a perfect rhythm.

That's when I realize; the song is not part of the ship. It is not coming from a being within the ship, nor is it being made by the ship. It _is _the ship; it is the stars and the world above. It is knowledge and power, beauty and darkness.

The black envelopes me. It is not the burning pain I expected, but an ice that travels through me, so cold and so hard that a scream rips from my freezing lungs. The darkness courses through my veins, ripples through my heart and mind, creeps through me like the venom it acts like. Shadow and shade flow around me, taking me over, changing me.

I keep screaming, crying out, as though someone else may take pity on me, fall into the trap that I have. The song drowns out all other noise, including the ones coming from my pitiful voice.

The song takes a form, and with it a name. I realize that I was mistaken to believe that the feeling emanating from the other shadow ships was fiery hatred; but rather a perfect chaos.

And chaos is not fiery. It is not hot and untamed, but cold and calculated. It is not random; it knows its enemies and strikes without thought. Chaos is calm and icy, and with the ice must come the darkness. The shadow and ice that join forces to create war, to start conflicts that can not be tamed.

This chaos is the song, and my screams join the song in a burst of frozen wind. They are no longer apart, two different sounds clashing against one another in anger. They are one sound, joined in the ice and no longer mournful, for now the one half has its second, and we are the same.

I am the darkness, and the ice and the song and the chaos. I am the destruction within the ship, and I am the ship. We are together, two halves that can never be separated, one creature instead of two enemies.

A new whisper joins the song, and the tune adapts to allow it entry. They are our orders, what we are to do. And we follow without question.

Our minds are connected in a strange way, a way my old, human thoughts couldn't understand. But I know now, and only I will ever know. But I am not alone; the ship is here, a second part of my mind that will never leave.

I remember vaguely the life I left behind. A family, perhaps? A friend or two? Perhaps even a home? But this is my home. This is my family, and the other ships are all the friends I'll ever need. And, should they be destroyed in the chaos that will come, then there are others. There are hundreds of us, whispering to each other, speaking in song and music and rhythm. Laughing when we can, following orders when we must. Soldiers in an ongoing war, a battle that has been raging for centuries, and likely will for centuries to come.

We take off, the ship and I, into the stars above. Into the ice of space, watching the stars as they age and wither and die before our eyes. All of history is at our disposal; lying within the corners of our mind should we wish to remember it. All the chaos in the universe, and all the chaos we will create. All of the history we will build with our thoughts and actions.

A new order comes. I don't know the time I've spent away from my old life, how long it has been since I've been human. It no longer matters; I am the ship, and being human means nothing anymore.

The whispered, dancing order calls us back to Za'ha'dum, and we go. A human boards, and suddenly, I feel something I haven't felt since…

I scream, and the ship screams with me. I can feel my hand, my _human _hand, being gripped so tightly that its all-too-fragile skin will surely bruise. Something is pulling me, taking me away, separating me from the ship.

Our two screams split; the song laments and cries, in so much pain that I begin to beg, to plead within my screams. The sound of my voice, spoken in words I no longer recognize, in a throat that is dry and sore, fills the air. It sounds different, hideous, even, against the sound of the song.

And I'm on fire. The world burns. There is no more ice, there is no more chaos. I kick and struggle feebly, managing to throw back one of my captors but no others. The searing heat is too much, and the light is blinding. I need to get back to the ice, back to the darkness!

But those who have taken me prisoner are merciless. There is a mask on my face, and the scent of too-sweet air fills my nostrils. I can't breathe; the smell is overwhelming and powerful, clouding my thoughts, relieving me of my vision.

As the world turns black and I fade into the dark world of unconsciousness, my hearing remains. But I can only hear one sound; my ship, the other part of my mind, singing it's tears, begging for my return in a language that I now know and cannot forget.

I wait in the darkness, but the world is still full of pain. I have no wish to rejoin it as I am dragged, kicking and screaming, back into awareness. My eyes blink open, rejecting the light, squinting and blinding me with their pain.

They slowly adjust, as they always have. I can only feel one thing; the other half of my mind, still singing, still calling me back to the stars, still lamenting my loss.

Then I realize I'm not alone. There is another; a human. A man; one I once knew. My fragile, weak mind manages to bring up a name; Morden.

I blink, opening my mouth to speak, but the words hurt. Disuse and time has driven my throat to a dry, crackling pain.

Still, I try, whispering out the name I know to be his. "M-Morden?"

Ugh. The language is dry and dull, simplistic and too plain to be of any use. But it is the only one that my human form can speak, the only one I can use to communicate with this man.

His lips stretch apart, widening. I study it, disgusted with this way of communicating emotion. I know the movement to be a smile, but it is so uncomplicated, so without depth or true feeling.

I also know that there is a hint of cruelty in that motion, but I could care less for the cruelty of humans, for they are weak and simple creatures, with none of the emotion I was previously capable of.

He steps aside, and new creatures come forward. I try to run; the single memory my human body has of them is fear, and I can only react to save myself, so that I may go back to my ship and stop the song of tears. But there are straps confining me to the bed, so there is nothing I can do.

"_Shadows."_ I hiss out. The word is involuntary; I am not used to controlling my human thoughts.

But they do not react; only whisper.

I don't realize how tense I am until the noise reaches my ears. Every muscle in my body relaxes; these creatures will not harm me. They are whispering in the language of the other part of my mind, the language of my ship. The whispers that I can identify as orders, but cannot translate into human words.

The whispering adapts to the song in my mind. They remind me that, if their orders are followed, I will be allowed back to my crying ship, to become part of it again.

The straps are unbuckled, and I sit up slowly, facing Morden. I try to smile, to communicate to him that I will do as I've been asked, that there is no longer any danger in me.

His responsive smile is not so much a smile as a smirk, another human motion that I must remember.

"Welcome back," He says. He lingers on the words for a moment before saying a name. I identify it as my own, trying to accept that it is what I will be called.

"Anna Sheridan."


End file.
